


And Then Everything Was Fine.

by merde_humaine



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: F/M, Morning After, One Night Stands, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 06:42:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11053455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merde_humaine/pseuds/merde_humaine
Summary: And he couldn't care less.





	And Then Everything Was Fine.

**Author's Note:**

> First dip into the Rick and Morty fandom. (don't worry I'll be back with some RickMorty fanfics)

“You know what we are, right?”

  
Alice’s mind was hazy, eyes half-lidded. Exhaustion weighed all her limbs down like lead, eyelids twitching and legs shaking in pain. A side effect of pleasure, it would seem. She looked up at him through her eyelashes, his tall figure towering over her.

  
The room was dingy, smelt like sex. This was the first time she had looked around at all. The off-white sheets beneath her were bunched up, empty beer bottles littering the carpeted floor. The lamp casted a sickly yellow light on everything. His dull cyan shirt was crumpled up on the floor, next to her kicked-off black stilettos. His old, worn lab coat was tossed over the back of a chair, miscellaneous items silhouetted in the pockets.

  
Their eyes met. His were cold. Icy blue. Like plunging into the deep end of the pool, like a free fall into the Arctic. All that and yet they were the most lukewarm pair of eyes she had had bore into the back of her skull. Cool. Uninterested. Couldn’t care less.  
“Yeah.”

  
Alice wished she couldn’t care less. Craved for couldn’t care less. She wished that she wouldn’t feel each emotion like her nerves were on fire. Like everything would crawl up into her to make her feel like it has _lived_ there its entire life. Like she had eighteen different lives latched onto her brain, draining her of any energy she had left, sucking her soul out the back of her head.

  
He was already in his boxers. Sprawled against sofa, blue hair wild, tinkering with another sci-fi gadget, like everything was alright. He looked up.

  
Alice hadn’t moved. She felt like she might fall apart, in every way possible. Repress. Don’t feel. Not the pain, frustration, hate, love. That parasitic feeling. That was what the beer was for, wasn’t it? To numb herself. To forget. To stop _feeling._

  
“Cheer up, angel,” he had said, moments earlier. “My angel. My girl.” His rough, calloused hand was on her cheek. His thumb swiping over her bottom lip, skimming over one of her canines. Her brow was furrowed, lips parted, back arched. She was his skinny bitch. His fuck-toy. His girl. His dolled up chick. _His._

  
And he couldn’t care less.

  
Not when she was like this. And she knew. Only when she was on her knees, only for him, only when she was just another hole. Never anytime else. Only when she had tears in the corners of her eyes, only when she was gasping for air, only when she was wanting. And she knew it.

  
Everything was quiet, except for Alice's own raspy breath and the beeps and whirrs coming from the gizmo in his hands. She sat up, ribcage popping out. She felt slow. Stupid. Like she was underwater, and her hearing was dulled, yet every sound elt tinny and sharp. Like she couldn't form a coherent thought. Like she was in love.

  
This wasn't love, whatever it was. She knew that he couldn't care less.

  
He was looking at her, like a strange sort of cat. Feral, in a way. She looked like shit, but he kept staring and staring.

  
"Jesus," he said, tossing aside the small machine he had been messing with. He strode across the room extending his hand to help her up.

  
He wanted her out. As soon as Alice stepped out that door everything would be the same. They would come down from the high. It was the end of the line. No feeling. No interest. Just an interaction. Just lust. Fleeting.

  
She grabbed his hand, standing up. The top of her head barely reached his collarbones, even in heels they weren't eye level. She looked up at him. In the weird yellow light, he looked otherworldly.

  
He smiled. She did too.

  
In a few moments, Alice stepped out the door, the last thoughts of Rick leaking away from her head along with the warmth the beer provided. They walked opposite ways, Alice into the orange light of the streetlamp, and Rick into the green of his portal.

  
And then everything was fine.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed this thing I shat out.


End file.
